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"For heaven's sake, Louis - d'you get every inhabitant of Boragora to throw their rubbish in here?" Sarah Stickney-White shoved a strand of dark hair that had escaped from its captivity back behind a scarlet bandanna. The movement left a grubby mark in its wake across her forehead, but the only person present to observe this was far to much of a gentleman to call attention to it.
"Merely the mementoes of a lifetime in the service of La Belle France." Bon Chance Louis was trying hard to conceal a smile behind his moustache and just about succeeding. It was noticeable, however, that he did not abandon the door jamb against which he was leaning to venture any farther into the room. Not that it would have been possible to do so without tripping over the flotsam that the tide of Sarah's Spring cleaning had distributed randomly across the floor.
"A lifetime's acquisitive instinct, more likely. You don't know what's in here any more than I do, and I doubt that even half of it is legally yours - Jack! Put that down at once! You'll make yourself sick."
Realising he had been spotted, the little terrier regarded Sarah soulfully from his one good eye, but he didn't let the decrepit, dust-covered salami drop from his jaws.
"And it's no good looking at me like that-" Sarah broke off as Jack's owner made his own spectacular entrance, tripping over the dog and hurling himself headlong into the - luckily empty - flour bin. The resulting string of oaths had Louis tut-tuting and Sarah's foot tapping in annoyance.
"Who put that blasted thin-?" Jake Cutter, pushing his cap peak up from where it was unaccountably blocking his vision, saw Sarah for the first time. He gulped. "Er... I mean... dammit, you always used to be able to use this place as a shortcut to the outhou- er... I think there's something sticking in my... er..." Clambering to his feet, Jack patted his backside cautiously with both hands. "Ow!"
Sarah pounced. "That's it! Don't be such a baby, Jake. But Louis, what in the world are you doing with a Deputy Sheriff's badge?"
"Ahahhh," Louis said reminiscently, his eyes beginning to twinkle. "That was an interesting- but no matter. A peety eet is not still valid. Jack appears to wish to deputise himself." He grinned wickedly. "But, of course, that is my privilege."
"Hey, wait a minute..."
Louis nodded to himself. "Besides, as Sheriff, he would 'ave to end ze fights instead of starting zhem." Plucking the badge from Sarah's hand, Louis advanced on the pilot, who backed away, hands raised either to surrender or to fend off his friend. As he was certainly not looking where he was going - he might fly by the seat of his pants but he didn't have eyes in them - he was inevitably brought up short, sitting down hurriedly on the tea chest that had hit the back of his knees. Louis took the opportunity to swoop in and pin the badge to Jake's shirt, announcing that, "As Magistrate, I duly appoint Jake Cutter to keep zee peace on Boragora and, in particular, in zee Monkee Bar-"
"Aw, Louis," Jake protested, but he didn't have time to elaborate.
Gushie, appearing in the doorway but wisely not attempting to come any further, informed them that, "There's a guy in the bar lookin' for transport, Jake. Apparently he's stranded an' he's in somethin' of a hurry."
"On my way." Jake looked around wildly for Jack, but the dog had vanished, along with his salvaged salami. Dusting himself off, Jake circumnavigated the debris and made his way into the Monkey Bar, where Gushie pointed out the potential customer.
He was not a prepossessing individual, having a singular lack of chin, a sallow, almost greenish skin, as if he was about to be seasick, and pale, protruding eyes. It made him look peculiarly like a frog.
"Mr Cutter?" The man extended a clammy hand. "My name is Deloitte. I hear you have an aeroplane for hire." His accent marked him as a New Englander, perhaps from Massachusetts or Rhode Island.
"That's right, Mr Deloitte. Just tell me where you want to go an' the Goose'll get you there."
"I have the position here." Deloitte extended a slip of paper on which were written latitude and longitude co-ordinates. "It's vital that we arrive tonight."
Jake was no longer listening. Instead, he was consulting a mental map. Latitude forty-seven degrees nine minutes South, longitude one hundred and seventy-six degrees, forty three minutes... He was frowning as he said: "Wait a minute, Mister. There's nothing at these co-ordinates."
Deloitte smiled. "Perhaps not now, Mr Cutter, but that is where the 'Alert' found - you have heard of the 'Alert' perhaps? No matter. I will pay you well to humour my... delusion. Shall we say three times your normal rates?"
Beggars, Jake decided, couldn't be choosers. Particularly with Louis grumbling about the amount he had on the slate already. "You're on, Mr Deloitte. The Goose'll be ready to leave in an hour."
As he left the bar to find Corky, Louis stopped him. "Jake. You are taking that one as a passenger?"
"Yes. Any objections?"
"I am... not sure." Louis shook his head in puzzlement. "I 'ave seen ees face, or something very like eet before. I should remember. There was a name... something to do with teeth..."
"Teeth?" Jake stared wide-eyed at the Frenchman, then burst out laughing. "Louis, you've finally cracked up!"
"Perhaps I 'ave, but be careful, mon ami."
"That, I always am." With a cheery flip of his hand, Jake sauntered out into the bright morning sunlight, leaving Louis watching him with puzzlement wrinkling his brow.
"I 'ope so," he said to himself, "but I wish I could remember..."
***
It was not until long after the Goose had lifted from the clear blue lagoon into clear blue sky, when the tropical night had fallen and the noise from the Monkey Bar was drowning the insect-song, that Louis slammed his fist down in the middle of a poker pot, scattering notes of a number of currencies and denominations, and spilling whisky over them. "Sacre Bleu! Innsmouth! It was Innsmouth. Mon Dieu! Jake..."
But wherever Jake was, it was out of reach of Louis's warnings.
***
"Told you there was nothing out here," Jake yelled back at his passenger, as the Goose circled a calm and empty sea.
"Nothing at the moment, Mister Cutter. Would you land half a mile to the East, please."
"On the open ocean?" Jake was outraged.
"It is quite calm, Mr Cutter, and it will remain that way until we wish to leave." Deloitte smiled as if he was about to shoot out his tongue and reel in a fly. "Now, will you do as I request? After all, I am the one who is paying for this trip - and paying you well, I might add.
Jake shrugged. "It's your money, but if we get any sort of swell at all, I've taking her back to Boragora. She's not designed to ride breakers."
***
Jake was awakened by a finger being poked relentlessly into his ribs. "Jake!" a voice was shouting as softly as possible into his ear. "Wake up, Jake!"
"Wassamatter?" Jake mumbled, opening one eye to peer at Corky. "S'not my watch yet."
"It's that passenger, Jake. He's crazy."
"Of course he's crazy, but his money's good. Just leave him alone an' let me sleep..."
Seeing that the eye was about to close, Corky prodded him again. "He's not ordinarily crazy, he's crazy crazy. He's out on the wing, chant-"
"On the wing?" Suddenly mindful of the safety of his aircraft, Jake staggered to his feet. "If he puts his big boots through my wing I'll make him eat them..." Trailed by Corky and Jack he made his way to the main hatch - which was unaccountably open - and peered out and upwards.
Deloitte was on the wing all right. Jake could see him clearly in the bright moonlight, standing looking away over the sea, his arms raised. As Corky had tried to tell him, the man was chanting in some unknown and uncouth language that set Jake's flesh crawling.
"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtan!"
"Oi!" Jake yelled. "Oi, Deloitte, you numbskull! Come back before you do some damage."
Deloitte ignored him. With a final cry of "Cthulhu g'fhtan!" he tossed something into the sea.
Jake had had enough. With a growl of rage resembling Jack in his worst bone-guarding mood, he bounded up onto the wing, taking care, despite his anger, to place his feet on the bracing struts, grabbed Deloitte by the scruff and hauled him unceremoniously back inside the Goose. "What the devil d'you think you were doing?" he demanded, shaking his client roughly.
Pale eyes, oddly luminous in the dimness, stared back at him without fear. "The stars are right, Mr Cutter. Now it is done, and soon-"
Suddenly, Jack gave a high-pitched yelp of pure terror and scuttled towards the rear of the Goose, where he flattened himself, his one eye covered by his paws, whimpering.
"What-?" Jake released his captive abruptly as the Goose began to rock, only softly at first, but within seconds the aircraft was pitching wildly.
Deloitte staggered to a port to peer out, muttering softly to himself in the same jaw-breaking language he had used earlier. Ignoring him, Jake and Corky scrambled forward into the cockpit, only to freeze in disbelief at the sight visible through the windshields.
At first Jake thought that it was a submarine conning-tower, then, as his eyes adjusted, he realised he had misread the scale. The boiling patch of ocean was over a mile distant, the 'conning-tower' a vast monolith blocking out the stars. Beyond it, more shapes pushed upwards through the foam; peaks and towers and citadels, rising inexorably into the night sky.
"J-J-Jake..."
"It's okay, Corky," Jake said comfortingly, but without conviction. "It must be an undersea volcano coming to the surface. I've heard of such things."
"I ain't never heard of nothing like this..."
Neither had Jake, but he knew better than to say so. What he was hoping was that this was a nightmare and that soon Corky would come and wake him up to stand his watch. However, time passed, the sea stilled, and monolith and mountains continued to loom solidly blacker between black sky and sea.
"It is safe to go ashore now, Mr Cutter."
Both Jake and Corky jumped. Jake's only consolation was that Corky yelped and he didn't.
"Ashore? There?"
Deloitte smiled his toad's smile. "Yes, of course, Mr Cutter. That is why we came."
"It may be why you came," Jake said pointedly, "but I'm not risking the Goose anywhere near those rocks in this light."
"In the morning, then, Mr Cutter."
"In the morning, things may look very different."
"In the morning, Mr Cutter, all things will be different."
***
Jake was glad to see morning. His dreams had taken him in a desperate race down an endless maze of tunnels which echoed with the devilish piping of huge, inimical slug-like creatures, their slime-trails fetid and slippery under his feet, then gliding through the cold void on vast membranous wings, hearing over all the mad bubbling laughter from the throat of a man... or was it a man?... who was black in a way no Negro had ever been; coal black, raven black, black as the blackest night, the deepest cavern where no light had ever come... the maze of tunnels down which he ran...
Even with the sun rising through the morning mists, he could not banish that laughter from his mind - and both monolith and island still stood before them, as real and solid as the Statue of Liberty rising before Manhattan.
Jake did not find them half so welcoming. In fact he would have preferred to have hightailed it out of here immediately, but he could find no sensible reason to refuse Deloitte's demand that they go ashore. After all, no harm had come to them so far, and no damage had been done to the Goose...
Yet Jack whimpered and pawed at his leg as he taxied the Goose inshore, and Corky was white-faced and gobbeted with sweat. He suggested that they stay behind with the Goose, but both man and dog insisted on accompanying him and Deloitte into the island's interior.
That was, as Jake had expected, both barren and deserted. There was no trace of vegetation, which bothered him: If the island had been under the sea, where was the seaweed, the algae, the coral? The tumbled rocks were as bald as Todo's pate, their very size oppressive. Deloitte, though, did not seem to think so. Uttering little cries of delight, he hopped over the broken ground, heading towards the higher, central part of the island. Gritting his teeth, Jake followed him - and Corky and Jack trailed unhappily in their wake.
"I don't like this, Jake," the mechanic kept saying. Jake didn't like it much either, but he tried to be reassuring. It wasn't easy. There was something uniquely horrible about this slime-covered hunk of rock. It was not just its greenish-black tint or the stomach-turning stench on the cold wind that blew from the island's interior. It was as if, somehow, their eyes couldn't quite cope with the geometry of the place. Only as he considered this point did Jake realise that the rocks did have a geometry.
By God! They were the ruins of giant buildings, their stones slotted together with an accuracy that precluded the need for mortar.
Somewhere to their left, they could hear Deloitte pottering about. Jake thought he caught the increasingly familiar words "Cthulhu" and "R'lyeh". What sort of language was that, anyhow? Plainly the sort that set Corky trembling and made Jack howl.
Suddenly, the dog leaped up to tug at Jake's jacket. The pilot turned to brush him away - and what he saw made him forget the dog, forget everything...
He may have screamed.
Great doors had opened into the Stygian interior of the island. Between them crouched a monstrosity they did not dwarf. The worst thing about it was the hint of humanity in the squat body. In all other parts it was stuff of nightmares, clawed and winged and tentacled, its face a mass of giant worms.
Jack let out a sound that was more a scream than a yelp - and fled.
"Run, Corky!" Jake cried, giving his friend a shove in what he thought might be the appropriate direction.
Even as he spoke, the horror launched itself through the air towards them. Jake twisted away, fell, and rolled across the rocks. Something metallic clinked against stone.
With an earth-shattering bellow of rage, the monstrosity veered off, gliding in a giant circle, even as Corky and Jack came scampering back to join Jake.
But what the Hell had frightened it off?
Jake looked wildly about him, seeking some answer.
A five-pointed silver star gleamed against the dark rock.
Jake swallowed. Surely, it couldn't be... He looked from the sheriff's badge to the monster, saw the hideous thing gather itself and spread its wings-
He snatched up the star as he came to his feet, holding it aloft as the horror glided towards him.
Once again it turned away, with a shriek of rage that left Jake's head ringing, circling the terrified trio like a hawk about to stoop. Its shadow smothered their courage in its darkness.
"You gotta have respect for the law, ugly!" Jake yelled at it, trying to raise their spirits by false bravado as he edged towards the Goose. His progress was slowed by the need to twist to keep the star facing the monster and to drag Corky along with his free hand, while avoiding tripping over Jack, who was weaving between his feet. The mechanic seemed frozen with terror. Perhaps a little more defiance would help. "I'll have you know, snake-face, that I was duly appointed by the Magistrate of Boragora-"
He broke off as Deloitte appeared between them and the Goose. The man seemed even more frog-like than before. "Human law is ended, Cutter. Cthulhu has awakened!" he cried, raising his arms to the circling monster, as if in worship. For the first time, it seemed to notice his presence, dipping in its flight towards him.
Deloitte knelt in supplication. "Great Cthulhu-" He didn't get any further. The monster snatched him up in mid-word, hooked in a single claw, settled on the highest point of the island, and proceeded to eat him.
Jake didn't watch. He was using the opportunity to hustle Corky and Jack back into the Goose.
As he settled in the pilot's seat, Jake pushed the badge into Corky's trembling paw. "Take that - and open the window," he ordered.
"J-J-Jake, I-"
"Just do it, Corky," Jake snapped, as Jack added his double-bark of approval. The Goose's engines had, mercifully, started at once. Now Jake turned the seaplane like a speedboat and raced away from the island. As soon as he dared, he pulled her nose up, and she skipped from the waves to the sky.
Behind them, the monster reared up into the air, tentacles waving, pterodactyl-wings spread. It seemed, somehow, to have grown into a colossus.
Jake kicked the rudder and pulled the stick over hard, standing the Goose on one wing in an aerobatic bank.
Corky shrieked, "Jake, don't-" and made a grab for the stick. Jake thrust out an arm to shove him back into his seat.
"Any good at baseball?" he demanded abruptly.
"Wha'?"
"I asked you if you were any good at baseball. Specifically as pitcher. You'd better've been. When I give the word, I want you to pitch that star right in ol' slimy's mush. Got it?"
"G-got it." Corky's eyes were wide with terror, but the window beside him was open and his hand rested on its edge, the star clutched tightly in it.
Jake drove the Goose straight for the writhing mass of tentacles that passed for the monster's face.
"Now!" Jake dragged the stick back and stamped on the rudder, even as Corky hurled the star. The Goose roared upwards and sideways, almost onto her back. Then she was spinning like a leaf in a whirlwind. Somewhere, Jack was howling.
For perhaps half a minute, Jake fought the controls without much hope, then suddenly the world was right-side up and the Goose was flying straight and level over seemingly endless sea; island and monster and monolith were gone.
"J-Jake..." Corky's voice quavered. "Jake, we did imagine it, didn't we? Say we imagined it..."
Jack barked once, derisively.
Jake shook his head and turned the Goose back towards the Maravellas.
***
It was over six months afterwards, late in the evening in the Monkey Bar, that Louis sought out Jake. "I 'ave received a reply from my old friend Monsieur Le Professor Wilmarth at the Miskatonic University at Arkham."
"The one you sent Deloitte's stuff to?"
"Oui. 'E thanks us for the papers, and he sends a message to you. I will read eet." Louis pulled out at sheet of impressively-headed notepaper from his jacket pocket and unfolded it. "Let me see... Ah. 'Your Mister Cutter was most fortunate - if indeed fortune was involved - and his courage has saved us all. Yet the sign of the Elder Gods is not always a sure protection against Cthulhu or his devilish kindred, though it is the best that we know. It is for this reason that I am sending him one of the original star-stones found during the Miskatonic Antarctic expedition of 1930. Tell him that he must guard it well, for as yet we cannot duplicate it, and he should carry it at all times, for the Cthulhu-spawn will not forget the injury he has done them. Too many escaped the debacle at Innsmouth. We shall continue our researches here, and pray to the Elder Gods that we shall find our answers in time. My thanks to you again, my friend, and most particularly to Mr Cutter.' This was inside the packet." Louis took a small object from his other pocket and placed it on the table.
Jake picked it up. It was a five-pointed star, apparently made of stone, but it showed no marks of tooling or polishing; it might have grown into the unnatural shape. For all its strangeness, it felt good in his hand.
"Keep eet safe, mon ami. You may 'ave been the most successful deputy I could 'ave appointed, but R'lyeh is out of French jurisdiction."
"I think we'd better start praying to those Elder Gods of Wilmarth's that it's out of everyone's."
Jack barked twice.
*
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